


Shame to Kill a Pretty Face

by authordean



Series: 200AUchallenge [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fighting, Guns, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Russian Castiel, Violence, Weapons, blood warning, hitman castiel, knife fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authordean/pseuds/authordean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>11.     I was hired to kill you but you’re pretty cute au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shame to Kill a Pretty Face

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by castieladrift (tumblr) - Russian Hit man Castiel + destiel
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes made in the pronunciation. I used http://little-details.livejournal.com/488699.html for help writing a Russian accent.

Dean presses his back against the wall, covering his own mouth with his hand to muffle his breathing. He's been running on and off for over an hour. He's sweating through his clothes, his vision is blurring. All his adrenaline has been used. He can't carry on for much longer.

When he first got involved in the this business, he knew it was dangerous. Drug dealing is bad enough, weapons trading is worse. He thought he'd covered his tracks. Wiped every weapon clean before packaging them off. His 'mechanic' business acts as a great way to transport the goods; leaving them in the boot of the car when they come in for repairs.

He only associates with known people. Trustworthy people. Anyone caught being disloyal or talking to the cops is... silenced. He doesn't deal with that sort of thing. His partner, Benny Lafitte, deals with that. He's good at hiring the right people and dealing with wayward helpers.

However, no matter how careful they were, they were bound to run into trouble soon. Dean found his house ransacked, his 'panic' room in the basement broken open and destroyed. All weapons removed. He grabbed his personal knife, one he keeps on hand at all times, and runs for it. Someone has followed him all this way.

He glances round the corner, knowing he cannot stay still for long. An audience is not going to stop this guy, Dean either needs to outrun or kill him. He's going for outrunning first. He could laugh at the irony- a life time of making weapons he never has any intention of using. Not that he can't give a good fight when he wants to, he doesn't doesn't want to. There's no use messing around with his guy.

He makes a run for in when he thinks the road is clear, running along the side of buildings so he's harder to see. It's starting to rain heavily, and he hopes that it'll help camouflage him. Something comes full force at him from behind, and pain ripples across his back as he's thrown to the floor. Fucking dammit. He lands on his hands, as someone makes a grab for his collar. He rolls over, the damp floor soaking into his clothes.

"Zadrota*!" The man screams, struggling to grab a hold of his wrists as Dean goes for his knife. He takes hold of Dean's shoulders, shoving his against the pavement repeatedly to hit his head on the floor. Dean presses his knees into the man's back to keep him in position, then throws him off his stomach onto the ground. Both men are up within a second.

"Stop!" He yells, in a thick accent it takes Dean a second to place. Russian? They circle each other, and it barley takes Dean a second to notice the man has a gun. Bringing a knife to a gun fight, goddamn.

"Who hired you?" He needs to know if Benny is in danger. If this can be traced back to his family. He'd rather die right here than have them find Sam and his parents. If he runs and they die, he's never forgive himself.

"From beesiness partner. Product he not like." His English is bad, but Dean can understand it.

"What business partner? He can have his money back." Rain is running down Dean's face and he lifts his hands to wipe his face. The man starts to move closer and he stops half way. "Relax, man. He pushes back his damp hair.

The man is younger than he expected, still in his twenties or thirties. He's soaking too, his dark hair wet around his face. Dean doesn't recognize him.

"Not concern."

"Who are you?" Dean asks.

"Cast-i-el here." He leans sideways and tugs down the waistband of his pants. On his hip bone, and leading up his stomach is a tattoo. More like a brand mark of two black angel wings dripping with blood. "Upset people vork for."

"If they're upset with it, they can go fuck themselves and leave me a bad review. Not kill me."

Castiel laughs mockingly, "Funny. Kill ees a shame."

Dean's had enough of this. He won't be threatened like this without putting up a fight. He runs at full force at Castiel, knocking him off balance and into the wall, his knife at his throat. The man whines and laughs.

"Vis ees neece." He says, adjusting himself to try and reach his gun. Dean presses closer, using the weight of his body to hold Castiel's arms in place and the knife digs into his throat, cutting in. Blood weeps out.

"This is nice. This isn't a game, Castiel. Who else have you been hired to kill?"

"You only." He says. The rain is coming down at such a force he can barley see. He blinks quickly, trying to wash the rain from his eyes.

"Is anyone else in danger?" He demands.

"You zagnut**, make sheetty product.You pay." The knife at his throat continues to not phase him. He tilts his head to one side, forcing Dean to pull back slightly so he doesn't rip open the man's skin before he gets answers.

"So if I kill you, it ends?"

"Feend eenoser." They'll find someone else, Dean translates, of course they will.

"I'll go into hiding then."

"Feend you." Castiel taunts. It's so tempting to press the blade into his throat and watch him bleed to death.

"No they won't. I'll make a deal with them."

"Deel?"

"Yeah. The payment kind of deal."

"Pay not matter." Castiel replies, "Product."

"Then I'll make a new product for them. In return, they leave me alone." There's no response so Dean assumes that'll be a good enough deal. "You, I don't care about. Either leave now or go back to them."

Castiel frowns, "Zadrota*, let me go?"

"Are you going to kill me if I do?"

"Depend on deel." Dean releases his arms and Castiel grabs his wrist, grabbing so violently that Dean lets go of his knife. Castiel hits his foot, pushing him over and onto the floor with his knees pressing both of Dean's hands onto the floor. The gravel scraps against his skin. Castiel delicately picks up the knife from the floor where it fell while still pinning Dean down.

"Be shame to keell." he says, sliding the side of the knife down Dean's cheek, "Preetty face."

Dean struggles against his hold, but Castiel is too strong.

"Eenclude me een deel." He tells him, "Yes?"

"Fine." Dean cries through gritted teeth.

"Good. Ve 'ave no problem sen." He leans down until his mouth his by Dean's ear, "Eentil ve meet again."

He takes Dean knife and holds the gun up to Dean as he gets off him. Dean stays on the ground until Castiel turns and runs back. Over the rain, it takes a few seconds before he's gone completely. Dean lays his head back against the ground, letting the rain fall onto his face. That was too close.

**Author's Note:**

> * Zadrota - “idiot or moron.”  
> ** Zagnut - "to con or exaggerate"


End file.
